Chapter 13: The Ride Home
The Dream House
Book One
I don't know why I kept staring at the journal.
It wasn't doing anything.
It wasn't glowing.
It wasn't moving.
It wasn't whispering mysterious messages into my ears.
It was literally just sitting there inside my backpack.
Yet somehow I couldn't stop thinking about it.
The burger place had officially closed almost twenty minutes ago.
The poor waitress had stacked every chair except ours.
At this point she wasn't even giving us subtle hints anymore.
She was practically begging us to leave.
"Guys."
I looked at Selena.
"What?"
"They want us gone."
I turned around.
The waitress was wiping the same table for what had to be the seventh time.
"Maybe she really likes cleaning."
Selena stared at me.
Luna laughed.
"No seriously," I continued. "Some people enjoy cleaning."
"Nobody enjoys cleaning that much."
"You clearly haven't met my aunt."
Luna nearly choked on her drink.
The fact that she laughed made me smile.
She had been quieter than usual tonight.
Not sad.
Just thoughtful.
There is a difference.
Sometimes people are carrying something heavy and you can see it in the way they look at things.
Luna was looking at everything like she was trying to solve a puzzle.
The journal.
The photograph.
The tree.
The church.
The mysterious notes.
The whole thing.
And to be honest, I couldn't blame her.
Part of me was doing the same thing.
The difference was I was hiding it behind jokes.
The night air felt colder than I expected when we finally stepped outside.
Toronto always does that.
One minute you're comfortable.
The next minute you're questioning every life decision that led you to leaving your jacket at home.
I shoved my hands into my pockets.
The street was quieter now.
The restaurants were closing.
Traffic had slowed down.
A few people walked past us laughing loudly about something.
Probably drunk.
Or in love.
Sometimes it's difficult to tell the difference.
Luna laughed.
"What?"
"You say everything out loud."
I hadn't realized I said that last part.
"Oops."
Selena shook her head.
"You're weird."
"Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment."
"Still counts."
The three of us started walking toward the parking lot.
I found myself looking at Selena.
Not in a weird way.
Just observing.
The way artists do.
She looked exhausted.
Not physically.
Soul exhausted.
The kind of tired that comes from carrying responsibilities nobody else sees.
I remembered the first time I met her at the coffee shop.
She seemed intimidating.
Successful.
Confident.
Like one of those women who had everything figured out.
Now I wasn't so sure.
Maybe nobody has everything figured out.
Maybe some people are just better at pretending.
"Can I ask you something?"
Selena glanced at me.
"Depends."
"That's not how questions work."
"Ask anyway."
I hesitated.
Not because the question was difficult.
Because I wasn't sure if it was rude.
"Are you happy?"
The moment the words left my mouth I regretted them.
Too personal.
Way too personal.
Luna looked at me.
Selena looked at me.
I suddenly became very interested in a random tree nearby.
The silence lasted longer than I expected.
Then Selena laughed.
Not loudly.
Just enough.
"That's a dangerous question."
"See? I knew it."
She looked ahead while walking.
Her heels clicked softly against the sidewalk.
"You want the honest answer?"
"Always."
She thought for a moment.
Then shrugged.
"I don't know."
The answer surprised me.
Not because of what she said.
Because of how quickly she said it.
Most people pretend.
Most people give polished answers.
Most people say they're fine.
Selena didn't.
"I used to think happiness would come after I became successful."
Her voice was calm.
Matter-of-fact.
Like she was admitting something to herself.
"Then I became successful."
I waited.
"So?"
She smiled.
"So now I have different problems."
I couldn't help laughing.
The honesty caught me off guard.
Luna smiled too.
For a moment nobody spoke.
The city lights reflected off the nearby buildings.
Cars passed.
The wind moved through the trees.
Life continued.
Then Luna spoke.
Quietly.
Almost to herself.
"My mom used to say people spend their lives climbing ladders."
Selena looked over.
Luna continued.
"Then one day they realize the ladder was leaning against the wrong wall."
Nobody said anything after that.
Because honestly?
What do you even say to something like that?
I don't know about Selena.
I don't know about Luna.
But I know those words followed me all the way home.
And later that night, after I changed into pajamas and sat alone on my couch staring at the journal sitting on my coffee table, I found myself wondering something.
Not about the tree.
Not about the church.
Not even about the mysterious woman in the flames.
I found myself wondering whether the journal had only predicted our future...
Or whether it was trying to save us from becoming the wrong version of ourselves.
That thought stayed with me for a long time.
Long enough that I eventually reached for the journal again.
Long enough that I opened it.
Long enough to discover that between two pages someone had hidden a photograph I had never seen before.
And the moment I saw it...
My heart stopped.
Because standing beside the mysterious woman from the fire...
Was a little girl who looked exactly like me.